Chapter 59

Thalia moved closer, dropping the plate on his placemat before they both returned to the kitchen, leaving us in silence.

I stared at the empty seat but didn't question who would accompany us. Instead, I sipped the lukewarm soup Nate had offered. He'd said he wasn't a fan of it, and it couldn't be coincidence Massimo refused his bowl too. Then why tomato and basil soup?

"Why don't you like the soup?" I asked boldly as if I knew he didn't.

"Just not a fan of its taste," he replied and picked a vinaigrette dressing and drizzled it lightly over the greens.

"Hmm. Funny, neither is Nate."

I sensed his eyes, but ignored them and took another sip of delicious broth.

"You should tell her the truth, Massimo," a croaking voice said, and I twirled to its echo.

Leonardo Ferretti.

I rose from my seat in his presence with wide eyes, watching the memories of my past unwind. To a time I'd called him godfather, when he was my brothers' instead of mine. A time when our families were at war and not forced into treaties by marriage.

I had been shy and scared. When my mother was around, I would hide near her skirt or in every corner to remain invisible from my father's eyes. And while I was young and confused, I'd always felt safe near the man with the red stone ring.

"This bush isn't the ideal place to hide, kiddo."

I peered up into gentle brown eyes. It was the only feature I found kind. The rest of him was scary, dressed in the same suits my father did. But his gaze was always curious, soft when I was around. Always treating me with care and speaking in a low tone. I had just turned four, and my father constantly reminded me I wasn't a child anymore. That I wasn't meant to be treated like one. Why did he? Why did he speak to me like you would a baby?

"I'm four," I squeaked, and glanced around to see if any of the gunmen had heard me. If I'd given away my secret hideout.

"Are you now?"

"Yes," I whispered.

Leonardo sat down on the steps near the entrance, a bit out of reach, but still close enough to hear me. I wish he would leave me. This was a brand-new hideout. One that allowed me to see who came and went, and easy to slip away when my father's car tires rolled down the long drive. The crate I'd learned to remove from the stone wall was an easy escape. I could slither between the small opening and close it before my father could beat me back into the house of screams.

"Then you already know these thorns are painful."

I did, but I was careful. I moved quietly and creeped small enough for them not to touch me. It didn't take me long to learn my lesson.

"My father isn't here," I replied instead.

"I'm aware." He smiled. "Can you keep a secret?"

I nodded.

"I'm here for your mother, although your father believes I'm here for business."

My eyes flooded with fright. My father wasn't someone to lie to. He was extremely mean and liked to cause pain whenever I did.

"Why?"

He didn't answer right away, and I could see his eyes clouded with concern.

"Your mother knows the whereabouts of someone I deeply care about, and I'm afraid of what could happen soon."

He didn't make sense. My mamma didn't talk to anyone. Hardly even spoke to me. She spent most of her time crying inside her room as I played with her hair.

"Could you maybe help me talk to her?"

I thought about it, and while I wanted to help, I didn't see my mother leaving her room.

"It's very serious."

So was my father's fist.

Aldo told me I should be brave and stop fear from paralyzing me. That I should pay attention and learn from my instincts. How they are always right.

Right now, they told me I should help, but how careful I must be. How I risked wrath, and pain if I didn't plan out my next move.

"Okay," I murmured, and rested my hands on the ground. "Stay here."

"No, there are too many eyes. Tell her to go to the gold bathroom."

"The gold bathroom?" I asked, that was next to my father's study.

"I promise no one will know, okay?"

I hesitated.

"You have my word."

With a little nod, I crawled through the dirt and slunk inside the crawl space opening. After placing the wire rack back in place, I scurried inside the house, sprinting toward my mother's room.

I knocked once, twice, but my mother never opened the door. I dusted my black dress and walked into the darkened room, but she wasn't in her bed. Quietly, I walked closer to the opened door of her closet. A feeling to run crept in, as if I shouldn't look for her.

But I found my mother's face glowing with a bright light as she typed quickly into a small rectangular phone.

She didn't have a phone, never seen her with one, and while I watched her tear-stricken face and sunken body holding on to the small rectangle, I knew I shouldn't have.

Her eyes snapped, and her hands quickly fumbled to her chest, covering the phone with them.

"Alessandra." She ushered me in. "You scared me, darling. Is everything okay? Is your father here?"

I shook my head. "Godfather Dantenar-du is here." His long name stumbled when I pronounced his full name instead of using the short version he'd requested to call him.

My mother wiped her tears and looked up at me with glazed eyes and jumpy movements.

"He said to meet him in the gold bathroom."

She couldn't stop looking past me, as if a figure would appear. I turned, but we were alone. Her head shook, and her feet paced. One last look at me, and her body turned to hide the device she'd held on to so tightly.

It's okay, Mamma. I can keep your secrets.

"You didn't see anything. Do you understand?"

I nodded.

Her nose sniffed loudly and she shuddered when she met me outside the large closet.

"Go play, I'll find you soon."

I did what she asked for. I left, but I didn't return to my drawings, the endless supply of colored pencils, or the Barbie's that never talked back. Instead, I hid and watched from afar as she walked away from the room she ate and slept in. Her feet were silent as they took each step down to the main floor. I followed her from afar, keeping an eye on father's return and another on her.

Mother's frame slithered inside the ajar door of the bathroom, leaving the light off. I took the chance to find a spot where I could keep the door visible without me near. The hall was not an easy place to hide, but the unscrewed air duct vents were friends for someone my size.

I squeezed inside and breathed in the dusty space with small shallow puffs. I had to be quiet.

"Gianna," I heard my mother's name whispered.

I scooted lower. Black shiny shoes against the opened door and a crimson stone revealed whose body it belonged to.

"You must hurry, I can't be found here, Leonardo."

"I'm aware, but I'm desperate, Gia. Please," he pressured with a gentle plea. "I need to contact Giulia."

"I've told you I don't know where she is."

"But you do," he fought. "Damn it, I know okay."

Silence.

"Fine," Leonardo said as his hand balled, and his voice lowered. "Can you at least tell me if they are still okay?"

Silence.

"Franco won't stop." I heard my mother's soft cry.

"And I'm working on that. Please don't run. Not yet."

"I can't promise you that."

"Damn it, just give me time. Think of the danger you'll bring to them, and that's including your own children."

"They are strong."

Leonardo cursed too low, and his back leaned against the doorcase. "No they are not. They are children."

My mother sniffed.

"Stop using, stop plotting, and leave Giulia out of your plan."

"It's too late."

"No it's not." Leonardo stopped, quickly straightened and turned to the sound from the end of the corridor. "I must go, but please-Do. Not. Run."

When people said the walls could hear, the walls could weep, they told the truth.

I heard and wept in silence.

It was the last time I saw Leonardo, and two days later, my mother was found dead.

If I'd once feared father, nothing compared to my next two years of life.

I was four, and as Nate had said, insignificant memories beat the ones I wished to remember. However, today, they weren't insignificant at all.

I was four, scared and without a mother's skirt to hide behind.

I was four, and I understood death and pain.

I was just four.

If it wasn't for the kind eyes that pierced mine, I wouldn't have recognized the man who stood shakily behind Massimo's chair. But the more I looked at him, the more the memories of Leonardo mirrored that man.

The strong features, the red stone finger, and the deadly demeanor were all familiar. But his thick black hair wasn't covered by a fedora. Instead the fedora concealed the faint shadow of what his condition had taken. The oxygen tank, and his inconstant coughs were also new.

Leonardo was my father's age, and yet he looked double and on the verge of death's bed.

It was cruel, really, knowing how strong my father breathed as Leonardo struggled with each puff.

I now knew who Leonardo was. His kind eyes had always been reserved for me when he was around, as if he hid the monster inside, shielding the child he often found in the bushes, under tables, and corners. He could've been like any other black-suited man who walked into my father's study, ignorant and mean to the little girl who hid so terribly.

Instead, he acknowledged my existence, and he was warm while doing so.

Leonardo knew the answers I sought. After all, he was the last person I saw my mother speak to before she died. And during that day and the following, my mother was present, but her mind was too far for me to call her back to me.

"Please sit."

I stared at him struggling with the emotions that threatened the corners of my eyes with memories and the possibility of speaking to him as an adult. Afraid of the answers.

The rough touch against my fingers drew my gaze to it, finding Massimo's calloused hand. He was confused by my reaction, but his demanding spirit didn't ease. It tugged at me to sit, to eat.

I composed my fluttering heart and sat with eyes that were fixed on Leonardo's short footfalls. When he stopped and lowered, our gaze connected across the table.

"You are just as beautiful as your mother was." He coughed.

"Were you in love with her?"

The question flew without barriers. It was the first of many, but by its answer it was possible to determine the correct order.

He smiled but shook his head. "No, not the way you think."

"Then in what way?" I quickly asked.

"I knew her from a young age and cared for her as a sister."

"How?" I fired.

"Massimo, are you intending to explain to her your soup situation?"

I didn't even glance at Massimo, his answer could wait. Leonardo's couldn't.

"How?" I asked again.

Leonardo's eyes narrowed. Gone was the kindness. He didn't like my spirit.

Welcome to the Lombardi club, Mr. Ferretti.

His gaze searched below, and he picked up the spoon. His wool-checkered vest shifted as his other hand removed the tubes from his nose.